


Stupid Say What?

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Adara Birthday Celebration [31]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Dating, Accidental Relationship, Alive Erica Reyes, Alive Vernon Boyd, Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Don’t copy to another site, Double Dating, Erica Boyd and Alison do NOT die, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Idiots in Love, M/M, Made For Each Other, Mates, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Post-Season/Series 02, Season 3+ Never Happened, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Vernon Boyd & Derek Hale Friendship, Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes Live, Werewolf Mates, double dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-29 03:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: Stiles shoved another bite into his mouth, glancing over at Boyd and Erica. Boyd was smiling down into his eggs benedict and Erica was grinning at Stiles.He frowned in confusion, his chewing slowing. Tucking the food into one cheek, he asked, “What?”“Nothing. It’s just nice. I like when the four of us come out together. Our little double dates,” she teased, stabbing her fork into a strawberry and putting it between her lips.Stiles snorted at her comment, since this wasn’t a double date—he wished—but didn’t comment on it because he liked their outings, too. Even if he whined incessantly about it until he got there, it was always a good time.





	Stupid Say What?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara)!!!
> 
> Okay, so full disclosure, I only had a vague recollection of this prompt and wrote this on my phone while out of the house, so it doesn't EXACTLY follow the prompt because I missed a part of it. I am sorry, but hopefully you like it anyway! 
> 
> LET US END ON A HAPPY NOTE!
> 
> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

“Stiles!”

He should’ve changed his locks. He should’ve known better and changed his locks the first time. Or the tenth. Or the _twentieth_. Hearing that whiney voice permeate the sleepy haze of unconsciousness one time too many should’ve been his first hint to change his locks.

His dad was a cop, he could find his way in somehow, Stiles didn’t need to tell him. Hell, Stiles thought maybe telling him how often the pack broke into the house to deprive Stiles of much needed sleep should be an _incentive_  for his dad to agree to change the locks.

Alas, the locks were not changed, and the pack still dropped in whenever they pleased like he was some kind of Werewolf therapist. If Stiles were a Werewolf therapist, he would definitely know about it, because he’d be getting paid to be a Werewolf therapist. As it was, he was _not_ , in fact, getting paid to be a Werewolf therapist.

Or a research expert.

Or a superhero.

None of these jobs he was doing on top of his university classes and homework _and_  part-time job at the convenience store were paying him.

Well, except the part-time job at the convenience store, but to be fair, that was a real job. The other jobs were ones he did for the good of humanity in Beacon Hills, and he didn’t get _any_  acknowledgement for it! None! Nada! Zilch!

Sure, the town didn’t know, but his dad knew! And Parrish! And the pack! Stiles wasn’t a cop, and he wasn’t a Supernatural creature, he should’ve been getting mad props and high praise for all the work he did! And what did he get instead?

Usually yelled at by Derek for almost getting killed. Their oh-so-great Alpha leader extraordinaire who couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble five fucking seconds. That was probably why there was a whiney voice in his bedroom and a hand shaking him awake at whatever ungodly hour of the morning it currently was.

‘Stiles, Stiles, Derek fell down the well!’ was basically the soundtrack of his life the past four years. Somehow, coming to the only human in the pack seemed to be the thing to do when their Alpha was in trouble.

Probably because the human seemed about the only one with half a brain able to get said Alpha _out_  of trouble. Stiles should start failing at getting Derek out of trouble. Maybe he’d get a full night’s sleep if he sucked at getting Derek out of trouble.

Then again, sucking at getting Derek out of trouble probably meant Derek would die. Leaving his life in the hands of his Betas was probably a bad call, really. While completely adorable, Stiles often wondered how Isaac knew how to tie his own shoes. He was cute, but not very smart, from the looks of things.

Oh, and Stiles wasn’t even going to _touch_  Scott or Jackson! Those two idiots could win an award for dumbest Werewolves in existence. And Erica, while smart in her own right, was more of a punch-first-ask-questions-later kind of person.

Really, the only person Stiles would trust Derek’s life with was Boyd, but half the time he was too busy corralling the others. Stiles worried for his life if  _he_  was ever the one in trouble. He supposed if they were desperate enough, they’d go to Lydia and Allison. Lydia would be smart enough to save him, provided she didn’t just decide to let him die...

All of that aside, the bottom line was, he needed to change the locks, because somehow the whole pack had a copy of his house key—probably courtesy of Scott, the traitor—and he was now being shaken awake at whatever ungodly hour of the morning it was by Erica, who was repeating his name incessantly.

“I’m going to surround my bedroom with mountain ash,” he muttered sleepily into his pillow.

“Then we’d just throw heavy things at you from the door,” she insisted.

“I’ll surround my whole _house_  with mountain ash.”

“That would just be stupid, what if something non-Were came in and attacked you?”

“At least I’ll get to sleep in death,” Stiles whined, giving up the fight and allowing Erica to roll him onto his back and grab both wrists, forcing him into an upright position. “What _now_?”

“Boyd, Derek and I are going to a movie.”

“That’s great. Have fun. _Bye_.”

Erica laughed sarcastically and kept tugging, forcing him to remain in a seated position despite his attempts to lie back down.

“Cute, you’re adorable. Don’t be like that, it’s rude to keep them waiting.”

“Derek’s not waiting for me, he wishes I would drown in a vat of my own saliva.”

“No, that’s Jackson. Derek is kinder, he’d wish a swift death on you.”

“How considerate.” Stiles glanced at the time. “It’s eight-thirty in the morning.”

“Well, yeah.”

“The theatre doesn’t open until eleven.”

“But we’re going to breakfast.”

“Erica, I will _pay_  you to let me sleep.”

“Oh honey,” she gave him a sympathetic look. “With what money?”

“You’re a bitch and I hate you.”

“You adore me. Up.”

Erica kept tugging until Stiles whined like a dying animal and finally climbed out of bed. He stumbled towards his dresser to grab some fresh shorts while Erica picked out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt for him. She complained about pretty much every one she found, but settled on an obscure symbol and a reddish plaid overshirt, shoving everything at him and pointing to the bathroom.

Stiles wondered if he could sleep in peace in the tub or something, but figured Erica would just break the door down and drag him out by the hair. She’d gotten really aggressive about their friendship since becoming a Werewolf.

Well, moreso since he and Scott had officially joined Derek’s pack. Not that Stiles had joined it, per se. It was more... Scott had joined it, and apparently Stiles had been part of Scott’s pack so by having Scott join Derek’s, Stiles was like an added bonus.

A bonus all the Werewolves took advantage of. _Repeatedly_. Before his father had found out about the whole Supernatural thing, he actually thought Stiles was sleeping around. _Him_! Sleeping around! With people like Derek, and Erica, and fucking _Jackson_!

It was actually kind of insulting when his father realized the truth and found that more believable than Stiles sleeping around. Stiles was attractive, okay! He could sleep around if he wanted to!

Maybe not back when they’d all been in high school, but he was now in second year university and he’d _really_  grown up, thank you very much. Stiles was, dare he say, _good looking_. Not hot, or sexy, but he was definitely attractive. It was mostly the hair, he didn’t know what he’d been thinking with that buzz cut.

“Are you drowning in there?” Erica called through the door.

“If I say yes, will you leave?”

“No, I’d break the door down.”

“Then no, I’m not drowning, don’t touch the door.”

Stiles sighed and got himself organized for the day, relieving himself and brushing his teeth. He contemplated his hair, then decided it was fine and changed out of his pyjamas and into the clothes Erica had chosen for him. Gathering up his sweats and night shirt, he exited the bathroom and tossed them onto his bed, then went to find some socks.

Erica was gathering his phone, wallet and keys while he pulled on some shoes, and he obediently followed her out of the house when she motioned him to do so. He had no choice, she had his phone, wallet and keys. God only knew what she’d do with his phone if left unsupervised, he’d already had to change his password for it seven times this month alone.

He didn’t know if guessing passwords was a Werewolf thing or not, but the wolves were all _really good_  at breaking into his phone. Which made no sense, because sometimes he chose the most _obscure_  passwords to the point where he’d actually forgotten his own password once and Isaac had been the one to unlock his phone.

Like, how? _How_?!

When they got outside, Stiles frowned, because there was no vehicle in sight. “How’d you get here?”

“How do you think? I ran.” Erica went to the Jeep and Stiles very pointedly looked down at her feet. She was wearing three inch stilettos. “What? I’m a woman, Stiles, we can run in heels.”

“You totally broke your ankle.”

“Did not.”

“You did, I’ll just never know because you’re a Werewolf.”

Stiles climbed into the Jeep, Erica getting in beside him, and backed out of the driveway. She told him where they were going and he made his way to one of the two best breakfast diners in town. The Camaro was already there and Stiles joked about hitting it, but would never actually do that on purpose. He parked a few cars down, then he and Erica headed inside.

Boyd waved at them, as if his considerable bulk and Derek’s stunningly attractive face weren’t obvious enough for them. Erica hurried to their booth, slid in beside Boyd, kissed him on the cheek, then cuddled into his side while perusing the menu with him.

“You’re disgusting,” Stiles informed her while sliding in beside Derek. “Hey Derek.”

“Hey.” Derek offered him a small smile, throwing one arm across the back of the booth behind Stiles. “I ordered for you. Same as usual.”

“Thanks.” Stiles frowned. “Why are there still menus on the table if you ordered?”

“I ordered for the two of us.” Derek motioned Boyd and Erica. “Boyd couldn’t make up his mind, and insisted he wouldn’t know what Erica wanted.”

“How am I supposed to know what Erica wants?” Boyd demanded with a sigh, as if he and Derek had been arguing about this for a while now.

“Derek knows what I want,” Stiles insisted.

“Yeah, but you eat the same thing literally _every time_ we come here. Even _I_ know what you want. _Jackson_  knows what you want, and he’s only come here with us twice.” Boyd gave him a pointed look, then lifted the menu back up so he and Erica could peruse it some more.

Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles, who just grinned and slouched in his seat. He was feeling a little more awake now, but still put out on his lost sleep. He’d been up until well past two in the morning trying to translate some obscure part of the Beastiary. He knew he didn’t technically _have_  to, but it was better to be prepared!

Boyd and Erica were being all gross and lovey dovey across from them, so Stiles turned to Derek to ask how the renovations were coming along. Derek had commissioned someone to rebuild the Hale house a few years back and had been living there for a while, but he didn’t like the kitchen. He’d recently gotten a contractor in to remodel, and was temporarily living in the loft with Isaac.

Isaac had inherited the loft from Derek after he’d moved back into the Hale house. Boyd and Erica had rented out a place together close to the Preserve so they were about halfway between Isaac and Derek.

Jackson probably owned some super fancy schmancy place that cost more than Stiles made in a year per month, he didn’t care enough about him to know where he lived. He was in the pack, hurray and all that.

But hearing about all the changes being made to the Hale house was interesting, and the waitress came over while they were still arguing over the colour Derek had chosen.

“Brown is so _dark_ , Derek. Who paints their kitchen _brown_?”

“I like brown,” he insisted, motioning Stiles when the waitress held up the chocolate milkshake in question. She set it down at his spot, then reached over him to hand a coffee to Derek. “It’s earthy.”

“Not for a _kitchen_ , dude.” Stiles sighed. “I’m never coming to your poop-coloured kitchen.”

“Now you’re just being rude,” Derek argued, offering him a small smile.

Stiles grinned back, sucking down a huge gulp of his milkshake and then making a distressed noise over the brain-freeze. Derek just laughed at him, like a fucking asshole, and asked him how classes were going once Stiles could speak again.

As much as Stiles liked to rag on Derek, the guy had turned out to be pretty cool. He’d been all gloomy and morose when they’d first met, but as time had passed, he’d softened around the edges. It had been four years since Stiles and Scott had met bad boy Derek Hale in the woods, and he was actually a pretty cool guy.

He actually knew how to joke, which Stiles still found shocking, even after all these years. And the more he hung out with him, the more he liked him. Derek was nice, and funny, and really, _really_  attractive, though Stiles would never tell him that.

He and Derek had had their fair share of heart to hearts while locked away in dungeons together waiting for death. During one of those times, Derek had admitted that he hated his looks, because he blamed them for a majority of the problems he had. He also hated that he never knew if anyone liked him for who he was, grumpiness and all, or if they just enjoyed the pretty package he came in.

Stiles had joked that it was definitely the package, but he’d tried harder to get to know _Derek_  since that particular conversation. He liked to think he knew him pretty well, now. He could order for him, too, and _not_  because Derek got the same thing every time. But just because he’d paid attention.

Derek liked beef, but wasn’t a fan of chicken. He was impartial to burgers, so he generally steered more towards sandwiches. He loved cheese, but hated mushrooms, and if anything with garlic touched his plate he was going to murder someone. He was a fan of all kinds of potatoes, especially ones with bacon on them, and he was known to order a side salad every now and then. His favourite soup was clam chowder, he _adored_  cherry pie, and he was more likely to get a coffee than any other drink regardless of the time of day.

So not as easy as Stiles to guess on, depending on how Derek was feeling on any given day, but still enough for him to take a guess and be at least eighty-percent on point.

Boyd and Erica finally ordered while Stiles was regaling Derek with stories of the terrible body-snatcher who’d taken over one of his university professors. He and Scott had cornered it and it had actually dissolved into tears because being a professor was so stressful and he’d just been trying to pass through town without anyone noticing him. Stiles actually felt kind of bad for him, but once they’d gotten the _real_  professor safely returned, the body-snatcher had disappeared without a trace, though he did leave a thank you note for not killing him, which was oddly considerate, in Stiles’ opinion.

The waitress waited for all four meals to be ready before bringing them out, and Stiles grinned at the mound of pancakes, devouring one in less than a minute.

“I still insist your pancakes are better,” Stiles informed Derek. “But my dad takes the crown for best French toast.”

“I’ve been making a lot of French toast lately, I might usurp him,” Derek insisted.

“No way, man. Dad’s the king. The king of all French toast kings.” Stiles shoved another bite into his mouth, glancing over at Boyd and Erica. Boyd was smiling down into his eggs benedict and Erica was grinning at Stiles.

He frowned in confusion, his chewing slowing. Tucking the food into one cheek, he asked, “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just nice. I like when the four of us come out together. Our little double dates,” she teased, stabbing her fork into a strawberry and putting it between her lips.

Stiles snorted at her comment, since this wasn’t a double date—he wished—but didn’t comment on it because he liked their outings, too. Even if he whined incessantly about it until he got there, it was always a good time.

The four of them ate and laughed while Boyd kept an eye on the time. When it was nearing their movie’s start time, he asked the waitress for the bill.

“Together, or separate?”

“Those two together,” Derek said, motioning Boyd and Erica. “And ours together, I’ll get it.” He motioned Stiles.

Stiles sputtered while the waitress walked off and punched at Derek’s arm. It hurt him more than Derek, but it was the thought behind the action that mattered. “Stop buying everything all the time, I’m not _poor_!”

“Just about,” Derek teased.

“Fuck you, I’m buying the popcorn at the movies.”

“If you must,” Derek said with a deep sigh, as if this entire ordeal was a huge hardship. He just laughed again when Stiles punched him a second time.

The bill arrived and Derek and Boyd paid, then thanked the waitress while they all slid out of the booth. Derek tossed the Camaro keys to Boyd so that Stiles wouldn’t have to head out alone, promising a swift death if it got even a scratch.

Boyd told them not to take any detours on the way and Stiles shouted back that the only people making a detour would be Boyd and Erica.

Once in the Jeep, he and Derek argued over Stiles’ music selection, like they did every time they were in a car together. They reached the theatre first, because, “Detours my ass, _Boyd_ ,” and headed inside. They couldn’t go into the screening because Boyd had the tickets, so Stiles dragged Derek into the lineup for snacks and then had to hold him there by the arm since Derek insisted he didn’t want anything.

“I am buying you popcorn if I have to cram the whole bag down your throat!” Stiles informed him, reaching the till and still dragging Derek along with him. He ordered two popcorns, a Coke and some Maltesers, because yes chocolate, and then they moved to the side to wait on Boyd and Erica.

Erica’s hair looked particularly ruffled when they showed up and Boyd’s shirt was backwards. Derek gave them a scathing look, and Stiles laughed because he realized they were in _Derek’s_  Camaro. He doubted they’d done the dirty, because that would be suicidal _and_  it would mean Boyd finished _real_  quick. Boyd didn’t strike Stiles as someone who finished quickly.

Once in the theatre, Erica and Boyd cuddled together like gross in love people and Stiles and Derek spent a majority of the movie whispering theories to each other. Stiles ended up being right, but he usually was. They shared the water, since popcorn was salty and Stiles should’ve thought to buy two, and Derek practically wrestled the chocolate from Stiles’ hand so he could have some.

“Down! Bad dog! Chocolate is lethal to canines!”

“Shut _up_ , Stiles, and just _share_!”

Derek ended up almost on Stiles’ lap in his chocolate thievery attempt, but he eventually succeeded because Stiles was being crushed and whatever, he’d buy another bag on his way out.

The movie was fun, and as annoyed as Stiles had been when he’d gotten woken up, he was glad he’d come out with them all. They parted in the parking lot, Stiles waving at them, and Erica called that they were doing dinner on Friday and that he should come.

He insisted he’d check his schedule, and Derek informed him he was coming. It wasn’t so much an invitation as an order so he rolled his eyes, insisted he had _other_  friends, but knew he’d end up going, anyway.

“See you for our next double date!” Erica called teasingly.

Stiles rolled his eyes while walking away, waved goodbye over his shoulder, and headed for the Jeep. He climbed behind the wheel, letting out a small, happy sigh, then remembered the mountain of homework waiting for him at home. Groaning, he banged his head once on the steering wheel, exhaled sharply, then sat up and started the Jeep.

Well, at least he had more hours than he would’ve if he’d kept sleeping all day. He supposed he owed Erica a thanks.

* * *

“I don’t get it,” Stiles whined, kicking out one leg in annoyance and letting his textbook rest on his face. “History is stupid. Why is that a required course? Who cares who fought who and when and why?”

“Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it,” Derek said absently.

“Thanks Gandhi.”

“Actually, that was a quote from writer and philosopher George Santayana.”

“Sarcasm is lost on you.”

“No, I got it, I just chose to ignore it.”

Stiles groaned, exhaling sharply and then wincing when his own breath blew back in his face because of the book. The only thing getting him through studying for this stupid midterm was Derek, at this point.

He had too many distractions at home, and Derek had shown up to check in on him since he’d gotten tossed around a bit the night before while they’d been trying to deal with a baby Giant.

Apparently Giants were a thing, which was fine, Stiles didn’t need to sleep, anyway.

Derek had insisted he was never going to get any work done and had quite literally picked Stiles up and walked out of the house with him over his shoulder and Stiles’ books under one arm. Stiles had tried to fight him on it at first, but he knew he wouldn’t win so he just gave up.

Once at Derek’s, he’d been relegated to the couch with some Oreos and chocolate milk—because yes, Stiles _was_  a child, thank you very much—and Derek had proceeded to read a book while keeping an eye on him to make sure he was studying.

Stiles eventually ended up with his head in Derek’s lap, holding his book up over his head while Derek dragged his fingers through his hair, his own book held off to one side so he could continue to read. The small head massage was actually really helping him focus, for some reason. Maybe because the headache he’d had all day was dissipating the longer Derek’s fingers slid through his hair.

It was really nice, actually. And he appreciated that Derek had dropped by to check in on him, and that he was forcing him to study. Derek would make a really good boyfriend, though sadly, he’d never shown any interest in men so Stiles was pretty sure he was out of luck.

Not that he had a chance even if Derek _did_  like guys. Derek could do better than Stiles, he was sure, but man he could dream. It was a shame, because Stiles would be so good to him. Stiles already knew a lot of the positive changes in Derek over the years were his doing, Derek himself had admitted to it. And Stiles would only continue to make sure Derek knew how amazing and awesome he was.

Because he was. So amazing and so awesome. And really nice, and surprisingly funny, and super generous and caring, and—

“Stiles. You can’t study with your book on your face.”

“Osmosis,” he argued.

“Nice try. Come on.” Derek’s hand left his hair so he could pull his textbook up, raising his eyebrows at Stiles when he didn’t grab it right away.

Sighing, Stiles reached out and took it in both hands, returning to reading over the highlighted portions of text. Derek’s hand went back to his hair, fingers sliding through the strands soothingly. They stayed like that for almost an hour before Derek shifted and closed his book.

“I’m gonna make dinner. Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been studying hard for the past little while, your brain deserves it.”

“Thank God!” Stiles sat up and closed his textbook, dropping it on the coffee table and watching Derek stand and head out of the living room.

Stiles didn’t have his phone, because Derek hadn’t let him grab it while carrying him out of the house, so he didn’t have anything to do. He could always go bug Derek in the kitchen, but he didn’t like doing that. Derek always looked so zen when he was cooking, and Stiles worried about bothering him, so he tended to try and avoid going in there unless the rest of the pack was around.

Deciding he could take a nap—nevermind that it was almost seven and _not_  the time for a nap—Stiles lay down on the couch, stretched, and then rolled onto his side, closing his eyes for some sleep. He hadn’t _actually_  expected to fall asleep, but next thing he knew, he could feel a light touch against his cheek.

Peeling open his eyes, he found Derek crouched beside him, smiling softly with the back of one hand against his cheek, trying to wake him up in the nicest way possible.

It was a harsh contrast to Erica’s usual shaking.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Stiles grunted in response, inhaling deeply and rolling onto his back, rubbing at his eyes. Derek retreated his hand, but he stayed crouched by the couch until Stiles finally sat up, rubbing the back of his head. He took Derek’s offered hand, being helped to his feet, and then headed into the kitchen so they could eat at the island.

He frowned at the food, checking the time, and realized he’d been asleep for a _while_ , because this hadn’t been done in a few minutes. They had some kind of fish with a blueberry sauce, a side of vegetable fried rice—complete with carrots, peas, eggs, broccoli, the works—and some green tea. There was also a small bar of dark chocolate and a peeled orange, presumably for dessert.

“This is new,” he said slowly, and Derek laughed.

“I read online that fish, blueberries, broccoli, eggs, green tea, dark chocolate and oranges are good brain food. I figured you could use all the help you can get.”

“Rude,” Stiles insisted, but he smiled anyway, because it was really thoughtful. Derek was just such an amazingly thoughtful guy. “It’s hard to believe I kept telling Scott to let you die when we first met.”

“You kept insisting I should die even as you helped me yourself,” Derek reminded him.

“True, but I am a giant softie. I would save Peter, if I had to.”

Derek laughed, shaking his head, and dug into his fish. Stiles did, as well. He was actually surprised the blueberry sauce worked with the fish, but it wasn’t very sweet, so he figured that was why. The tartness of the berry with whatever else was mixed in with it made it complement the fish perfectly.

They chatted briefly about Stiles’ courses, then moved on to Stiles whining about the gross brown colour of the kitchen. It had only been done for four days, but Stiles brought up the ugly colour as much as possible, because it was ugly.

Derek had actually even contemplated painting it the other day _because_  Stiles hated it so much, but Stiles had just slapped him and insisted his opinion didn’t matter. It was Derek’s kitchen, if he wanted it to look like a poop-kitchen, that was his right and nothing Stiles said should change his mind.

Though Stiles really _didn’t_  like the colour. He supposed maybe it would grow on him. As long as Derek liked it, that was the important thing.

“I was thinking of having a pack brunch this weekend,” Derek said when they were cleaning the dishes together. Stiles argued he should clean, since Derek had cooked, but Derek insisted he was just trying to avoid going back to studying and both of them cleaning up would go faster.

“That’s cool,” Stiles said. “I’m game.”

“Yeah?” Derek frowned. “I wasn’t sure. I figured you guys are all done midterms as of this weekend, and it might be nice to do something for everyone.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Stiles offered. “Maybe we can all bring something. Like a potluck brunch. I call chocolate chip muffins!”

“I don’t know that I trust you alone in a kitchen,” Derek teased. “But uh, I could use some help. What if you stayed over on Saturday? We can get some stuff prepped and then wake up and finish up on Sunday before brunch? I promise I’ll make pancakes _just_  for you.”

“For me?” Stiles asked dramatically, then laughed at the unimpressed look on Derek’s face. “Sure man, that sounds good. I’m fine dropping by on Saturday afternoon. But uh, isn’t the spare bed still in a box? You haven’t gotten around to putting that together for the guest room yet. Are you gonna have time before Saturday?”

Derek winced slightly, drying a pan a bit more than it needed to be dried. “I was—I mean, I guess I figured we could just share my bed.”

“Oh, okay.” Stiles shrugged. He didn’t care, he shared Scott’s bed with him all the time. He supposed he hadn’t figured Derek would be that kind of person.

Derek glanced at him, smiling a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah man.” Stiles slapped him in the arm lightly. “But fair warning: I kick.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.”

“You might change your mind on Saturday night.” Stiles winked. “I’ll have to remember to bring my pillow.”

“A problem for later in the week. Right now,” Derek put his hand on Stiles’ head and forced him to turn around. “Back to studying.”

“No,” Stiles whined.

“Stop being a child, go study.”

Stiles let out another loud groan and stomped out of the kitchen like a child. He grinned, because he could practically _hear_  Derek’s eye roll. He headed back for the living room and fell onto the couch, sighing before grabbing his textbook and opening it to the page he’d left off on.

At least he had pancakes to look forward to. That was a bonus.

* * *

“I can’t believe you hate me _so much_ you’re making me do this,” Stiles whined pathetically, being dragged up the stairs by both hands. Erica was holding one of them and Derek had the other. It was a good thing, because if they let go, he might make a break for it.

“Stop being such a whiney brat, it’s not attractive,” Erica insisted.

“Maybe not to you, I think he’s _super_  attractive right now,” Derek argued, the sarcasm practically dripping off every word.

“Hardee har, you’re both hilarious. How did I get roped into this again?”

“Pack bonding,” Erica said, turning to wink at him.

“Pack bonding doesn’t count if it’s only the usual four of us.” Stiles sighed when they reached the top of the stairs. Erica let his hand go to dig in her purse for the tickets, Boyd on her other side with one hand on her lower back. Derek didn’t let go of Stiles’ hand, probably so he couldn’t make a break for it.

“I don’t even _like_  this movie,” Stiles insisted while Erica handed the tickets over.

“Who doesn’t like _Beauty and the Beast_?” Derek demanded, following Boyd and Erica through the doors and tugging Stiles along with him.

“Me, that’s who.”

Okay, so he didn’t _hate_ the movie or anything, but if he was going to go out and watch a play in a super fancy theatre while being forced to wear a suit, he would’ve chosen something else. Like _Wicked_ , or _The Book of Mormon_ or hell, even _Phantom of the Opera_. But seeing a play based on a movie he had on VHS was just... a waste.

“It got _amazing_  reviews, we have awesome seats, we’re gonna have a _great_  dinner after this, and your ticket was free since Derek paid for it,” Erica insisted while they climbed the stairs to the balcony. “Shut up and enjoy it.”

Stiles let out a sigh and figured he should stop whining. He was just tired, though he knew that wasn’t a good enough excuse. He just honestly wasn’t getting much sleep, and the past few months had been riddled with Erica, Boyd or Derek coming to kidnap him so they could go out together on their “double dates.”

Not that he was opposed to hanging out with them, but it kind of depressed him a little bit. Boyd and Erica were so in love and always looked so damn _happy_. He and Derek were stuck watching them be all cozy and lovey dovey, it was depressing.

Though Derek never seemed to mind. He was probably getting laid on a daily basis, so what did he have to be bitter about? Nothing. Stiles couldn’t even get a date to the movies. At this point, he might as well be dating Derek, he certainly spent enough time with him.

Not that he minded that, but wishful thinking. Like Derek couldn’t do way better than Stiles.

Too bad all the double date jokes weren’t true, Stiles would kill to be on double dates with Derek as his date.

When they found their seats, Derek went in first to be a buffer between Stiles and whatever stranger would be sitting on his other side. Boyd and Derek were both like that, it was kind of funny. They didn’t want anyone other than pack around Erica and Stiles.

Stiles figured it was a territorial thing for Erica. With Stiles himself, it was probably just the Alpha keeping the weakest member of the pack—aka, human Stiles—safe from outside threats. It was cute, and it didn’t bother him, so he and Erica just laughed about it.

Derek insisted it was a mates thing whenever Erica started getting really annoying about it, but she just grinned and waggled her eyebrows at him, which generally had him scowling and pouting like a child.

Stiles sat down beside Derek, Erica on his other side, and Boyd taking the last seat. They were actually really good seats. Front row of the centre portion of the balcony. They could see everything, and because the theatre was relatively small, it meant they were fairly close to the stage.

“These are good seats.”

“Right?” Erica poked him. “You’re going to have fun, even if you insist you won’t. This is gonna be great.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but agreed to stop being a whiney child who was missing out on nap time—though he _did_  feel like a whiney child who was missing out on nap time. He really needed to get more sleep.

They chatted about their next pack event— _full_  pack event—and what they wanted to do up until the lights dimmed. When the show started, Stiles was actually _really_  into it. The Belle actress had a _phenomenal_  voice, and the Gaston was fucking _hilarious_. He was over the top with his acting, which made everything so damn funny Stiles thought he was going to choke he was laughing so hard.

The only downside, in his opinion, was that the theatre was fucking _freezing_. He assumed it was because it was warm out, and the lights on the actors probably had them sweating, but Stiles was fucking frozen. The others seemed fine, considering they were Werewolves, but at intermission, Derek turned to him with a frown and asked if he was okay.

“It’s really cold,” he informed him. “I guess you guys can’t tell?”

“It’s fine for me,” Erica said from beside him.

“Here.” Derek stood up and pulled off his suit jacket. “I know it’s not really a jacket for warmth, but the extra layer should help.”

“Thanks.” Stiles pulled it on over his own, rubbing his hands together.

Derek sat back down and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him into his side. He was so fucking warm that Stiles almost wanted to crawl into his lap. He _did_  slide one hand under Derek’s shirt though, because he was _that_  cold. Even Derek reacted to how cold his hands were and Stiles ended up sitting there with both hands on Derek’s stomach, the Werewolf’s arm around his shoulders and pulling him into his side.

The second act was a lot more comfortable for him, because his own personal heater was keeping him nice and toasty warm. Not to mention Stiles had his hands on Derek’s insanely toned abs for the remainder of the play, so that was nice.

After the show ended, they piled into the Camaro to head to their dinner reservation, which ended up being a super expensive three Michelin star restaurant. Stiles had been insanely uncomfortable up until he’d found out Derek was paying for him. Then he’d just been mad until Erica insisted he just let the man do something nice for him.

“Fine,” Stiles said, pointing his finger across the table at Derek. “You pay for dinner, _but_  in exchange, tomorrow morning, we’re going to breakfast anywhere you want and _I’m_  paying.”

Derek looked startled, and then delighted. Probably because Stiles never asked him to hang out, it was usually always Derek asking _him_.

“Sure. Yeah, that’s–that sounds great.”

“All right then.” Stiles picked up his menu. “It’s settled. I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

“That’s not breakfast, Stiles,” Erica said with a small smile.

“Just let me sleep, okay!”

* * *

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” Stiles couldn’t stop repeating the words while hurrying down the stairs, looking at the seats excitedly until he found their row and moving down it to their spots. He sat down in one of the middle seats, since he knew Derek and Boyd would take the outside, and then turned to see where the others were, practically vibrating in his seat.

He didn’t know _how_  Derek had managed to score these tickets, but he was fucking _thrilled_. Apparently the New York Mets—Stiles’ _favourite baseball team **ever**_ —were playing the San Francisco Giants in Sacramento and he’d gotten four tickets.

Derek had called him to invite him to join them, since he was taking Boyd and Erica with him. He’d joked about their usual ‘double date’ foursome being the perfect group for this outing.

Stiles could’ve _kissed_  him for being invited along.

Because he _loved_  the Mets. And he knew Derek knew that, so he’d probably honestly gotten the tickets for Stiles since they tended to drag him to things he didn’t want to go to—like _Beauty and the Beast_. This _more_  than made up for it, because Stiles was so excited he thought he might puke.

They were spending the night in Sacramento, too. Derek figured it could be a fun outing for them before finals reared their ugly heads, and before some other terror decided to invade their little town. Stiles and Derek were sharing a room, with the lovebirds Boyd and Erica next door. Stiles joked he should’ve gotten them a room further out because Derek could hear the hanky panky.

Turned out Derek hadn’t thought of that and Stiles had spent a majority of the drive down trying to switch rooms while also laughing hysterically at Derek’s distress when they couldn’t find another room. They ended up being able to switch rooms with another one on the other end of the floor, which was good enough, but still hilarious in Stiles’ opinion.

“Someone’s excited,” Derek said with a laugh, moving past Stiles and taking a seat, rearranging his baseball cap.

“So excited!” Stiles grabbed his arm and shook him a few times before hugging the arm he held tightly. “I swear, I love you so much, this is the best thing ever!”

“I’m glad you’re happy.” Derek’s smile was so endearing that it made Stiles’ heart do something funny in his chest.

He forced himself to clear his throat and pull away, releasing Derek’s arm and turning back to the field. He glanced around when Erica and Boyd took their seats, because he knew Scott was there somewhere, too.

Apparently his father had tickets to the game, and he’d asked Scott to come with him as a kind of bonding-begging-for-forgiveness thing. Scott had agreed, though reluctantly, but it was cool they were there on the same day. Stiles figured if the seats around them didn’t fill up and Scott got mad at his dad—which was inevitable—he could just come hang with the pack.

“We should grab snacks before it gets crazy down there,” Boyd said across Erica and Stiles.

“Yeah, good call.” Derek stood, looking down at Stiles. “Hot dog?”

“Thanks. And a beer?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“Cute. No. Your dad will murder me.” Derek flicked the brim of Stiles’ own hat, said he’d be right back, then he and Boyd left to get the food.

Stiles turned to Erica, the two of them chatting about the rules since Erica knew nothing about baseball, when Stiles jumped because someone had just fallen into Derek’s empty seat. He already knew it was Scott before he even turned, grinning broadly and slapping his back.

“Hey buddy. How was your drive in?”

“Sucked. My dad spent the whole time arguing why he did the right thing leaving like he did.” Scott looked annoyed, but he waved the words away almost impatiently. “That’s not why I’m here though, I figured that was going to be a shit ride. What I wanna know is why you didn’t tell me you were dating Derek. How long have you been together?”

Stiles stared at him, utterly confused. _Yeah, I wish,_ he thought to himself, but aloud, he said, “What? I’m not dating Derek.”

“What do you mean you’re not dating Derek?!”

Stiles turned to Erica, startled, and found her staring at him with wide eyes and a horrified expression. He frowned, even _more_  confused.

“I mean I’m not dating Derek?” Stiles repeated, a little unsure. He felt like he was missing something.

Erica kept staring at him before finally saying, “Does Derek know that?”

“I’m... assuming he does?” Stiles asked, _extremely_  confused, now. “Why, does _Derek_  think I’m dating Derek?” He’d asked it mostly as a joke, starting to laugh right after he’d said it, but the laugh died the second Scott spoke.

“We bumped into him and Boyd on our way back to our seats, and he introduced himself to my dad as your boyfriend.”

Stiles turned to him, eyes widening. “What?”

“Stiles, Derek has been commenting on you guys being a thing for _months_.” Erica insisted, forcing him to turn back to her. “He figured you wanted to take things slow because you never initiate anything, and he almost wet himself with excitement when you asked him out to breakfast because it was the first time you’d taken the initiative.”

“So you’re _not_  dating Derek?” Scott asked, sounding both confused and horrified. “But Derek thinks you are?”

Stiles turned to look out at the field, his mind racing, because what? _What_?! He was dating Derek?! But—Derek had never said anything! He’d never _asked_  him or anything! How was Stiles supposed to know they were dating?!

“Excuse me.” Stiles got to his feet, trying not to have a panic attack, and hurried down the row to the stairs. He raced up them and then out into the main part of the stadium, looking around for where the food was before heading quickly in that direction. He’d only made it about halfway when Derek and Boyd met up with him, and they immediately crowded him.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Derek demanded.

“Are you okay?” Boyd asked, almost overtop Derek.

Stiles had _no_  idea what he looked like, or smelled like, but obviously it was cause for concern.

“I need to talk to Derek.” He grabbed his arm. “Now. Right now.”

“Okay?” Derek gave Boyd a confused look, but allowed Stiles to drag him off over to one side. Stiles tried to find a secluded area, but this was a baseball stadium, and there _were_  no secluded areas, so he just found an empty space by a wall and parked them both there, turning to look at Derek and feeling _insanely_  nervous.

“Are you my boyfriend?”

Derek let out a small laugh. “I should hope I haven’t been taken over by anything. I’m gonna go with yes, since I feel pretty normal today.”

Stiles stared at him, the good cheer slowly sliding off Derek’s face the longer Stiles stayed silent.

“Dude, are we dating?”

“Yes,” Derek said slowly, looking confused and a little worried, now. The hot dogs he was holding in both hands were beginning to droop a little. “Why?”

Stiles was an idiot. He was a huge, fucking _idiot_.

_How_  had he not clued in to the fact that they were dating? Derek always took him out, always paid for him, always _did_  things for him! He wrapped his arm around Stiles all the time, and he was protective of him around other people. Stiles had assumed it was an Alpha thing, but Derek acted with him the _exact_  same way Boyd acted with Erica!

All this time, all these outings, they weren’t supposed to be Boyd and Erica on a date with Derek and Stiles tagging along! They were supposed to be _double dates_ , just like the others had said, and Stiles had _no idea_!

He’d always thought they were _joking_!

“Stiles?” Derek asked, sounding _extremely_  concerned.

“Okay,” Stiles said, clapping both hands together. “Full disclosure: I had no idea we were dating.”

The hot dogs sagged a little more, a dollop of ketchup falling off one and hitting the floor by their feet. “What?”

“You never asked!” Stiles insisted, flailing slightly. “I didn’t think someone like you would _ever_  be interested in someone like me!”

“What does that mean?” Derek demanded with a frown.

“I mean, you’re like, super nice, and compassionate, and giving, and attractive, and—”

“So are you,” Derek interrupted, and he looked distressed now. “Stiles, the past few months have been the best months of my life. Being with you has been—it’s been _everything_  to me. You have no idea how... I’m sorry I wasn’t clear, I just thought you knew, and you wanted to take things slow so I was trying to be patient and...” Derek _really_  looked distressed now. “Are we _not_  dating?”

“Oh no, no, no!” Stiles insisted, grabbing at one of Derek’s arms and wagging his finger in his face with his other hand. “No take backsies! You said we were dating, we are _dating_!”

“I don’t understand...”

“Okay, rewind.” Stiles clapped his hands together again and pressed them against his lips. “So you thought we were dating, but I had no idea we were dating, and in my head, I _pretended_  we were dating. Because I like you. Like, a lot. _So_  much. But I never figured it would happen because you’re you, and I’m me. So I just pretended we were dating, but we were... _actually_... dating.” Stiles seriously felt like an idiot. “Dude, are we dating?”

“I would like for us to be dating,” Derek said uncertainly. “Would _you_  like for us to be dating?”

Stiles stared at him. “Okay, can we pretend this conversation _never_  happened? We’re dating. No take backsies, you’re my boyfriend, I’m your boyfriend, end of story.” Stiles grabbed one of the drooping hot dogs and then tilted his head up to press his lips lightly against Derek’s, because _wow_ , he was dating _Derek_  and he was _allowed_  to kiss him!

Man, he had a lot of wet dreams to make a reality, this was _crazy_! He could’ve been kissing Derek this _whole time_!

“Sorry,” Stiles said when he pulled back. “Sorry for not realizing we were dating. I feel really dumb, and kind of mean.”

“I didn’t realize I wasn’t clear,” Derek said. He looked a little unsure, like he was worried Stiles was going to change his mind, but Stiles just grabbed his now-free hand and grinned at him.

“Nah, I think I was just too caught up in my ‘Derek’s too good for me’ world to realize what was happening. You were plenty clear. Though kissing me would’ve clued me in a lot faster.”

“I didn’t want to kiss you until you were comfortable with it. I wasn’t sure when would be a good moment.”

“Now’s good.” Stiles grinned. “Now’s _great_.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Oh_  yeah!”

Derek let out a small laugh, seeming a little more comfortable, and leaned forward to kiss him. This was a _proper_  kiss, with moving lips, and tongue, and just so much _Derek_. God, Stiles was so dumb, he could’ve had this for months, he just hadn’t realized they were going on _real_  double dates!

He didn’t know how long they stood there kissing. At some point Stiles had released his hand, and Derek had brought his free one up to Stiles’ face while Stiles tugged at the front of Derek’s shirt. Everything else seemed to melt away around them, and it wasn’t until Stiles heard a roaring cheer that he remembered where they were and he pulled away from Derek.

“Oh my God, the _game_!”

Derek laughed when Stiles grabbed his hand and started running, pulling him along with him. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten so distracted by Derek that he’d forgotten about his _favourite team_ playing right on the other side of the wall!

They made it back out into the stadium, Stiles releasing Derek’s hand so he didn’t fall down the stairs while watching the game. They made it back to their row and inched their way along to their seats.

Boyd had one arm wrapped around Erica, and they both watched him when he sat down. Boyd looked stone-faced—poker face of a God, that guy—but Erica looked a little worried.

“Everything okay?” she asked cautiously while Derek eased past them to get to Stiles’ other side.

Derek sat down, shifting a little to get comfortable, and then switched his hot dog from his right hand to his left, throwing the right one over Stiles’ shoulders and pulling him into his side. Stiles turned to grin at Erica.

“Everything’s perfect.”

Erica relaxed instantly, punched him in the arm—which, _ow_ —and then turned to focus on the game.

Stiles leaned into Derek, smiling to himself, and felt lips press against the top of his head.

Best double date _ever_.

And the _best_ part of the best double date? Stiles hadn’t even known it was one.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Beauty and the Beast (c) Disney  
> Wicked (c) Winnie Holzman  
> The Book of Mormon (c) Trey Parker, Matt Stone & Robert Lopez  
> Phantom of the Opera (c) Gaston Leroux / Andrew Lloyd Webber
> 
> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).  
> (If it still exists by the time you read this lol)


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